


Near Miss

by battle_cat



Category: Venom (Movie 2018)
Genre: Ficlet, Gunshot Wounds, Hurt/Comfort, Near Death Experiences, Other, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-10-20
Updated: 2018-10-20
Packaged: 2019-08-04 19:06:49
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 769
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16352450
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/battle_cat/pseuds/battle_cat
Summary: He knows the symbiote can heal him, but getting hurt still really fucking hurts.





	Near Miss

The bullet holes in his lungs and gut are probably more urgent, but the one in his hand is red-hot fucking agony. The pain throbs along with the heartbeat that’s senselessly pumping his blood out of his body.

**FIXING THE MOST IMPORTANT SYSTEMS FIRST**

_I know._ He’s lying on the freezing concrete, shaking really hard and trying to make his breath do anything other than panicky rasps. But he _can_ breathe, while a minute ago it felt like someone was standing on his chest, and the paralyzing, all-consuming pain lodged somewhere under his diaphragm is very, very, very slowly diminishing.

He knows Venom can heal him. He’s feeling it happen right now. But that doesn’t mean every nerve in his body hadn’t just been screaming that he was _GOING TO DIE_ alone in this shitty alley in a sketchy warehouse district he shouldn’t have been creeping around in anyway, the exact kind of place where it was super easy to get jumped and shot four times by the guys you were very sure didn’t know you were following them; he was going to die alone and his last thought would have been _Shouldn’t have followed those guys—_

**YOU ARE NOT ALONE**

**AND I WOULD NOT LET YOU DIE**

The voice sounds tight and cold in his head, and he’s pretty sure that means Venom is _scared,_ and that is downright fucking terrifying.

 _BANG BANG BANG BANG._ He can still hear the shots, crystal clear, replaying in his head, before the dull pop and sharp scream of Venom breaking the gunman’s hand.

His hand. The pain is lessening, shattered bones knitting themselves back together, skin closing smooth and clean over the defensive wound where he’d thrown up his hands in a feeble, human attempt at protection. When he risks a look down at his palm, the bloody hole that was there a second ago is gone. He’s still shaking really hard though.

The prospect of letting some other force control his body feels like an unbelievable relief. “Get us home,” he whispers.

 

He doesn’t remember how they get back to the apartment. He’s so tired he can hardly walk straight, but he’s also churning with unused adrenaline. He was dying, and then he abruptly wasn’t, and his body is rattling to pieces with misfiring stress response.

The back of his throat tastes like blood. He barely has the coordination to slop down half a glass of water before he collapses onto the bed fully clothed. He curls up on his side, still shaking. Inside him, he can feel Venom swirling around, pulsing with restless rage, which doesn’t do anything to help his blaring nervous system.

**TWO OF THE MEN WHO HURT YOU ESCAPED**

**WE WILL FIND THEM AND EAT THEM**

**WE WILL EAT THEM SLOOOWWLY**

“Yeah, V. Tomorrow,” he mutters. He’s cold and he wants to pull the blanket up, but he is so goddamn tired. Fuck, he’d love to sleep, but every time he closes his eyes all he sees is a bright muzzle flash.

(How many times has he almost fucking died in the past few months? _Maybe you should’ve tried to process some of that shit, dumbass._ )

**Eddie**

The voice in his head is much quieter than normal, almost plaintive.

**I don’t understand**

**I fixed the damage but your emergency response system is still activated**

“Yeah.” He sighs. “Humans be like that sometimes.”

**Let me help**

“Please don’t.” Venom has been playing with his sympathetic nervous system lately, but it doesn’t have a good handle on the controls yet. Did you know you can black out from too much adrenaline? Neither did he, until last week.

There’s a long pause in which he lies there waiting for the crackly buzz of terror to go away. It doesn’t. Venom’s voice is very quiet in his head when it says

**should’ve been faster**

It’s stopped pacing around inside him and is curled up in a tight, forlorn little ball somewhere around his solar plexus.

“Shut up," he mumbles. “You saved my life.” Again.

**could have kept them from hurting you at all**

“It’s okay. I’ll be okay.”

**you don’t feel okay**

“I know.” Jesus, he’s still really fucking cold.

A knot of black tendrils seeps out from somewhere between his shoulderblades. It spreads and ripples across his torso and down his legs until it’s covering him, organic and warm and comfortingly heavy.

**does this help**

And the thing is, it does, a little. It’s not like lying next to another human, but there’s a feeling of being held, being secure. It’s…actually really nice.

“Yeah,” he breathes. “It helps.”

**Author's Note:**

> I'm [fuckyeahisawthat](http://fuckyeahisawthat.tumblr.com) on Tumblr.


End file.
